Turning Tables
by FrankandJoe3
Summary: Dick's never seen the Lion King, so Wally decides it's his personal job to get the sidekick to watch it. Just as he's convinced the little Robin though, a few out of context phrases from the other viewers send the bird broken and fleeing from the scene.


Although light is thought to outrace sound in every aspect involving speed, the concrete walls of the training room which held the easiest ZETA tube stayed as dark as those shadows in your worst nightmares with the heartwarming happy giggle that bounced swift off the walls. Only then, that brighter tone captured happily within darkness' reach, did the rounded metal arch branch out in a sharp blast of blinding light that spit out two figures merged at the arms, more laughter joining that first test projection.

Words were gasped out between the happy bouts, tossed back and forth like a blow-up beach ball down at the lake on a lazy day without any real intent of grabbing at it and attempting to make a score. There were a few mad grasps, but all pale fingers could grasp at were the sleeves of each other's jackets with the hopes of standing straight and making it to their destination without detouring into a ditch and taking a lifelong nap with their heads through the windshields.

A feminine monotone acted like a guard rail and directed them back mildly within the lines of the road in announcing their entrance to anyone willing to shell an ear to actually care, but the silhouettes didn't share the care so it went useless. As the light drew away and color was added to the giddy figures, any available eyes suddenly flashed to the swoon-inducing grin that lit up the shorter of the two's cheeks, his shock white teeth bared in the best fit of happiness one had ever seen him in.

Though shielded by sunglasses, the dark blue eyes he bore positively _sparkled _up at the taller boy he clung to through the black locks spread sporadically across his forehead. The other boy, a warm tint over his freckled cheeks returned the gleam back to his temporary tumor straight from the emerald in his eyes, auburn locks spiked up with the right amount of gel to keep it looking the way he seemed to prefer from the way he pushed it back up again with his fingers.

"You really haven't seen it?" Wally asked in amazement, grin parting his teeth widely, almost afraid to tear his eyes from the magnificent expression to his best friend's face in fear of forgetting it.

Dick wasn't necessarily depressed all the time, but it was near as rare to see Batman bare a smile so it was something to cherish with both hands and a thankful expression willing to honestly be held to until it felt itself necessary to carry on in its own life's path. The only time he _dare _look away was to assure they weren't going to crash into something entirely and to look down at the hands furled tightly onto his jacket sleeves, a sight that only further brightened the expression on his face.

The sudden affection, or at least in Wally's experience, was a sign that the sidekick was truly happy. He had pieced together in their time of being friends that the circus life had associated contact with happiness by once building the little acrobat up on knowing he had never been happier than when he had been suspended by the hands of another to his ankles or wrist. Contact was happiness, so affection was euphoria; in the ginger's mind at least.

"No, seriously! Alfred never let me watch it! Is it really that awesome?" he propped an eyebrow up excitedly, teeth skimming the skin of his bottom lip before suspending in the air again from the inability to anchor closed, "Isn't it just a dumb Disney movie?"

"Lion King dumb?!" Wally faked dying for a moment, clutching hard at his chest as if the vital organs held within its confines were now all of a sudden giving out and only letting the pain serve as a warning, revived again by the expression over the ebony's features. "That's like... That's like saying you can only ever eat one tub of cheese balls! That's crazy talk, bro! They started it a while ago, but you should be able to pick it up really fast. Wonder why Alfred didn't let you watch it..."

The raven-haired boy didn't like the example because the boy on his arm was the only person he knew that could actually pull it off and relate to it later, but it was funny nonetheless at how serious he felt the air to be.

"I'm pretty sure he's been alive for a thousand years now. He probably has a few dinosaurs tucked into his closet or something like that," Dick had his own seriousness to his smile, joining Wally in laughing again at the cackle to the lining of his laughter.

Their soles went from treading to the flat of the concrete, shadows blurred out against the dark of the room, to the imitation maple floors that cast them out boldly and threw them up to the walls as they passed the windows opening out to the side of the mountain, falling into fits over a comment Wally had added that was a bit more racist than he intended.

"Ah, but anyway," the ginger swiped at his eyes, "You probably didn't miss too much. Um, you just need to know it's about lions. Simba, he's the main little dude, he's a prince and his daddy, Mufasa is the king and his brother is some baddie called Scar. Simba's totally tapping some little lioness named Nala or something and uh… There's a warthog and a… whatever the hell animal that is, maybe prairie dog or something, they dig a lot… Timon and Pumbaa, and they're married and don't really care. They adopt Simba for a while…"

The ebony stared blankly, but he nodded slowly, eyebrows knotted as he attempted to take it all in, ending up just laughing and shrugging it off.

"I'm sure I'll catch on," he assured his freckled face friend with a big grin, eyes lighting up as the back of the couch catches his eye.

He let go of Wally's arm, his grin still hard over his lips and his eyes still bearing that painstakingly bright gleam to their coating, darting for the couch and leaning onto its back with his forearms, looking up over his shades at the TV. The ginger walked in right behind him, tensing as he recognized the scene in a heartbeat, Scar's hand- er, paw?- being the only thing suspending Mufasa above the stampede.

Right as he remembered that he had the ability to voice a warning, the darker lion removed his hand and the red haired king was falling. That wasn't the only thing that fell in that moment.

As the king of the pride was swallowed by the crowd of wildebeests, Megan shifted against Conner and giggled sweetly at something he must've said to her, Wally left with nothing but regretfully parted lips and horror in his eyes. It paled considerably in comparison to the lightning bolt that seemed to strike Dick through the heart, though.

The navy of his eyes expanded wide enough that it was unable to retain that gleam, sending it to the floor by his Converse, quick flooding tears nowhere near fast enough to catch it. The grin on his lips slipped before he could manage out the harsh gasp, the shards of it shattering digging into the toes of his shoes. Red tinted cheeks quickly turned to ice, the heat from them rushing quick to his palms where they stayed and brought small tremors out along his frame.

"That's funny," the Martian on the couch murmured with a shy grin, grazing her fingers against the black of her boyfriend's shirt, eyes sparkling up at him.

Wally slowly staggered to his friend's side, watching the tan fingers dig into the couch back and tighten to the point every bone was visible from the tip of his fingers to where his wrist started and knowing it was too late.

"He's a cat; he would've landed on his feet. Besides, that fall isn't very high. Who dies from_ falling_?" Conner scrunched up his nose at the ridiculous idea, shaking his head, watching with an unamused expression.

The sound that followed was animalistic, down straight from primal instinct, a murderous roar much too deep to have come from the lips they did before the TV was raining down all over the living room in small pieces. The explosion had been so sudden that no one had captured it, with the exception of the utility belt bearing sidekick with the chest that's rise and fall continuously grew quicker and quicker in speed.

"You'll like it, he said," Dick snarled, choking on the words as he combat the sobs that threatened the chest that was compressing more and more, breaking the words, "W-Wha… what kind of sick joke is that..? Did you… D… Did I…?"

He was struggling on the breath that wanted to come out, forcing it ragged, his torso heaving almost in a desperate attempt to hold the pain in. Even a single tear shed would be one too many. Emotions were good to have, but this kind wasn't to be revealed to those who would simply judge. It wasn't weakness if no one saw.

"I… W… Wally…" he raised his hands and pulled _hard _at his hair with a quiet whimper, blinking tightly and near praying that the tears on the brims of his eyes would take the hint and retreat soon as he turned his back to Megan and Conner. "D… didn't mean to… b-break the… TV…"

It wasn't the TV breaking that the three present were too concerned with as they watched the teen combat his inner demons, fingers twitching in their fists as his chest continued its convulsions, struggling noises splitting his throat.

"Robin… I-I forgot that his… I forgot that his dad died…" the redhead insisted, stepping forward and trying to take the bird into his arms.

The ebony out-stepped him, looking back at him just as the first tear slipped, skimming his skin before it dripped off his chin in a quick stream.

"C-Crap!" he cried out before he crumpled to his knees, angrily dragging his hoodie sleeve over the track the tear had left, his breath now just gasps for air past the pain. "N-No… no…"

Wally knelt beside him, comfortingly reaching out a hand to touch his shoulder when it was slapped away, deep hatred written in the navy blue.

"Don't touch m-me," he choked out, crawling a bit until he could use a chair at the bar to pull himself up, making a staggered break for the ZETA.

The fifteen year old was already turning on heel when Conner caught his wrist, his own blue orbs demanding answers as his other hand pulled a part of the TV's screen out from his hair. Megan was using her telekinesis to get the rest of the scattered pieces back into the basic TV shape, her head cocked determinately, a green light absorbing each gap between the parts.

"Why did Robin blow up the TV?" the clone bluntly asked, releasing the wrist at the flinch he noticed.

The released hand flew back to rub a freckled neck, emerald eyes nervously averting as the right kind of answer was pieced together in his mind, formulating a delicate way of going at it. It wasn't exactly a good plan to go and just bluntly say his parents died falling and Conner not only trashed it, but it was presented to him again when he heard Megan giggle.

"Some uh…" he started awkwardly, watching the ZETA portal, "Some people… some people die falling, Supes. Have a little respect?"

That raised a curious eyebrow of the taller teen, his eyes casting to his girlfriend who turned her eyes to the redhead only after setting the repaired TV down, eyes flashing over neon.

"Falling," her voice deepened, but gained a youthful outlook that sounded insanely just like Robin, even with the pained little accent to its edge, "It wasn't the guns. It was you falling. Nothing scares me more… I… After… after…"

Megan was decent enough to stop there, bowing her head lightly before walking up to Conner and taking him by the arm, pulling him back.

"Go comfort him. And... tell him we're sorry?"

* * *

He was thirteen years old, nearly five four with the muscles to make any girl in his school do a double-take with a shy blush, but no one could've guessed that by glancing at him now. Owning the corner like it was all he had left, he had his knees drawn in as tight as they could get, chest heaving as he fought the emotions that desperately clawed their way up his throat and left him tasting bile.

"H… He's right… who… who dies falling?!" he groaned into his knees, fingers stuffed into the crease of his legs.

A cry of surprise left his lips as he felt the telephone box beside his head surge, the blinding light poking out through the glass not far above his head, his jaw locked as he attempted to halt the shudder of his torso.

"Angels, for starters?" the comforting voice came from above him, raising the navy eyes in shock only to steady them after recognizing the owner.

A redhead casually straddled the top of the box five feet above, his smile as deceased as the people occupying the grounded bird beneath him's thoughts. Once he caught the eyes, he hopped down and shakily landed, sitting cross legged out in front of the ebony.

"Listen, Dick…" he brought his fingers together, resting them between his legs where they'd be out of the way, contemplating the proper way to go about his plan.

"Save your breath," the thirteen year old shook his head, wiping at his eyes, "I've heard it all before. I don't need another apology. I don't need a hug. I don't need help, or a shoulder to cry on, or advice. I just…"

A hard swallow was his personal goodbye wave, getting to his feet and walking around the fifteen year old with an averted gaze, sniffling quietly.

"I can take care of myself."

Wally rushed to his feet, his fingers securing around a forearm while the other boy's hand secured around the handle of the telephone box.

"You don't have to push me away. You know me! There's no way I'm going to apologize for something Supey said. That's his fault for being… well… himself. And I know you, so I know you're not going to cry and if I even try and touch you, I'm bedridden for the next couple hours," he spoke fast, knowing that once that was out, he might have an audience.

It didn't lessen the grip on the handle, but it stopped the hand from moving any further.

"I overreacted. I know. It's not your fault. The movie has a happy ending. SB doesn't know any better. You forgot about that part. I forget anything?" his navy gaze glared accusingly, a little startled at his voice for staying level in its mocking little monotone.

The grip on his arm released and Wally took a step back.

"You're right. I do know you, KF. We're best friends, remember?" he assured the ginger, the hurt settling into the freckled cheeks not helping the settlement in the pit of his stomach, "You know me better. I might push you away, but you've got one of the widest orbits I've ever known. I'll always come back."

The relieved smile that flooded the negativity over the gates and out of the way was all Dick needed for that unsteady breath, nodding lightly and pulling open the door to the telephone booth, looking the interior over with a bit of admiration for the subtlety it held. The cramped quarters and cobwebs were the best looking decor he had ever seen thrown over a ZETA transport without question.

"Going to finish the movie?"

"Like you read my mind, West. Megan fix the TV?"

"You can't tell anything ever happened. Give Alfred my best," Wally chuckled, raising his chin in a farewell of sorts, stuffing his hands into his jeans pockets. "Just don't let Bruce hear you give it."

The ebony returned the small laugh, closing the door behind him as if it were fragile, setting a hand to the glass and watching his friend with a final recovering grin as the bright light absorbed him.

* * *

**Probably a bit of a sketchy ending, and the little tantrum might have been a bit over-thought, but I had to find yet another way to wish a very happy birthday to Micaela! I hope your first day being fifteen was just a start to a great year. I love you, dolly! Now love me for going overboard with the birthday wishes. **

**-Effie  
**


End file.
